


Untitled

by Renne



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean, Sleepy Hollow (1999)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Sparrow's unexpected encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted: July 2004

'You look... somewhat familiar...' Jack scowled at the pasty faced man before him. He remembered saying something along the lines of those words to Bill Turner's whelp, Will, and he wondered briefly if this man too was perhaps the son of an erstwhile colleague, or indeed, a colleague himself, undergone some kind of bizarre metamorphosis. Second thoughts put paid to that – he looked far too lily-livered to be an associate of Jack's.

'I – I have never before seen you in my life,' the man said with wide-eyed, nervy embarrassment in an accent Jack wouldn't quite place. 'I have a fine memory for faces. I would surely remember someone like you...' he trailed off, glancing at Jack's filthy, unkempt clothing with barely concealed distaste.

Jack grinned and tilted his head back to look down his nose at the stranger. They were much of a height, though to Jack that was where the similarities ended. Where Jack made no bones to hide who he was – he was every inch the rascal – the other man was sparkling clean and clean-shaven. 'Someone like me, eh? Y'mean... a pirate?'

'_Pirate_?' the man yelped, fumbling for his pistol.

'Ah, you won't be needin' that,' Jack said, moving to relieve the man of his gun before he accidentally shot himself with it. The other man wouldn't have a bar of it, however, and Jack found himself staring at the business end of a pistol. Well, it would have been the business end he was staring at, were it not held by a visibly trembling hand and shaking like Gibbs after a barrel of bad ale.

Jack backed off a step, raising his hands to show he wasn't going to do anything rash. 'D'you have a name?' he asked, aiming for his most cordial tone but hitting something squarely between charming and mocking.

The man scowled at him. He had a scowl to match and almost mirror Jack's in the way his fine brows knitted over dark eyes and the way he set his jaw. 'Constable Ichabod Crane.'

'Pleasure t'make acquaintance, Constable.' Jack sketched a florid bow, which he wouldn't have dared had he seen the way Crane's eyes widened at the sudden movement, his already trembling hand shaking fit to break. 'The name is Captain Jack Sparrow.'

Drawing himself up, the Constable attempted a sneer. '_Captain_ Jack Sparrow?' Ichabod glanced about him and Jack groaned quietly. He knew what was coming next like they were reading from a written script. 'Well, I don't see a boat about anywhere.' It was a fair yet somewhat ridiculous observation, seeing as they were in the back alley of a seedy town somewhere on the Spanish Main.

Jack wondered if all these self-important officious types cut were from the same bolt of cloth. Stiff and dour and pale as a ghost? Thinking for a moment on the good Commodore Norrington, he amended that thought with a satisfied smile. _Almost_ all...

'You're aware, aren't you, _Constable_, that we're on an island in th' middle of th' Caribbean?'

Ichabod blinked, the hand holding the gun sagging. If possible his face even paled further. 'Ex_cuse_ me?'

'Curacao, Constable Crane. In the Spanish Main. Y'do know where that is, don't you? A good educated man like y'self?' Jack grinned again, something feral in the amused baring of his teeth.

'Sp-Spanish Main?' Jack was damn sure Ichabod squeaked that time. The pistol slipped from numb fingers to clatter on the mucky cobblestones beneath their feet.

'Welcome to the Caribbean, love.' Jack could have smacked himself for that one. This was ridiculous. He was quick and agile of mind and more than capable of original, classy one-liners. He _was_ Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

His fabled wit, however, would have gone unappreciated had he come up with something stunning and original anyway, because at his pronouncement Ichabod Crane's dark eyes had rolled back in his head, and he swooned with more finesse than a Tortuga tavern whore presented with a handful of gold. It was a faint that looked like it had been done many times before, like a learned experience refined to the height of grace and style.

And unlike a Tortuga tavern whore, the man actually did pass out.

Taken aback, Jack blinked at the man at his feet. That was... unexpected.


End file.
